To Kill A Jabberjay
by junkfoodjamie
Summary: The Mockingjay Rebellion has failed and the Games are back with a vengeance. Raven is a girl in District 11 who's world get's turned upside down on the day of the Reaping and is thrust into the world of the Capitol. Find out what happens by RxR! Some language and later violence. All characters based off of real people friends of mine , so please don't use my characters!


**A/N: I am happy to say that this is my very first Hunger Games fanfic. I based all the characters off of people that I know, but changed names for all those safety reasons. My grammar has been a little mental lately, so forgive me for any mistakes. PLEASE review it! I'd love some opinions!**

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It's a Tuesday morning as I wake to the smell of apple pancakes. Dad must have made them especially for me. He always treated me like a princess on the day of the reaping.

I kick off the covers and slide into my 'nice clothes', as my father calls them. A long black dress with whire and grey stripes across the chest, along with a pair of black flats. There's never much I can do with the brown, ratty puff of hair on the top of my head, so I brush it out and throw it into a sloppy bun. I examine myself in the mirror. To be one of the poorest people in all of Panem, I am certainly well fed. That's the only good thing about the new president. Everyone is taken care of, though not too well taken care of.

I sigh and walk out to the kitchen. Te smell was stronger now. Dad sat at the counter, an empty plate in front of him. Beside him was another, filled with apple pancakes.

"You look nice today. But why black? You're not going to a funeral." He says. For once, he has shaved, cut his hair, and is dressed as nicely as he will for the Capitol.

"Might as well be." I shrug, sitting down. I pick at the pancakes, hunting for the little bits of apple baked in them.

"Eat up. You're going to need your strength for the party tonight." Dad nudges me. I drop the fork on the plate and stand up.

"Who's to day I'll be attending this year? My name is in the reaping nineteen times this year, Dad! I'm only fourteen!" Yes, I'd been worried about this for a while. Out of the hundred-and-something eligible children and their tesserae, my name was in there nineteen times. I would get lucky again. Why wouldn't I? Dad stays silent. He hasn't looked me in the eye for nearly a week. I think deep down inside, he knows that this is my year.

I walk out the door, grumbling under my breath the whole time. The clock rang in the town square. One chime. An hour until the reaping. At this point, the smart people will start to head there and get signed in. I walk slowly, my feet crunching against the rock-infested durt paths. someone pokes me in the side as they come up behing me.

"Boo." the boy says. It's none other than my only friend, Dylan Vetreal, He's also the child of District Eleven's only victor. He's just a little taller than I am, which is hard to come by. His blue-grey eyes are large and curious, always examining something off in the distance, and his hair laid flat against his skull. He wasn't a double take, but he was certainly a looker.

"Ready to be reaped?" I joked.

"Stop that! Its bad luck!" he cried.

"Gimme a break, Dylan. Luck doesn't exist in Panem."

"It does in me."

"And as for the rest of us?"

"Well, you're all just shit out of luck."

We laugh as we arrive into the inner parts of the district. The rich parts. Where the houses were well build and the children were fat. I hate this part of town. Luckily, its very small and we get through it quickly.

There it is. The crumbling, moss covered Justice Building. No one knows what it's supposed to be used for. Not even the mayor. She just goes in every morning and pretends to do work, followed around by the occasional Peacekeeper. The Capitol used it, too, but only twice a year. The square itself was nothing special. The mayor's house, the head Peacekeepers house, and the one or two stores there. A platform stood in the center of the square, three chairs to one side, a podium in the middle, and two bowls opposite the chairs. This is it. This is the reaping.

We sign in quickly, allowing them to prick our finger and stamp our blood in a book. Boys and girls are on opposite sides of the platform, and the adults stand in the back, Kids slowly file into the square, their faces grim, taking a place in the roped off area designated for them. Two men and a woman walk up onto the stage. the men sat in the chairs, while the woman walked up to the podium and tapped the microphone. The clock tower chimes twice. It is time for the reaping.

"How is my district this afternoon? Is everyone here?" she askes. The only response she receives is the final shuffling of feet. Our mayor is a mess. Her makeup is half done, her hair frizzing all over the place, and her clothes were wrinkled. For her, this is a new fashion.

She went on, speaking of the great country of Panem, and how the Capitol had taken care of its people. Everone knows how much of a load of crap that is, but none of us have the guts to say anything. Then she speaks of the Dark Days, the uprising where the original thirteen districts rebelled against the Capitol, resulting in the destruction of District Thirteen and the institutuion of the Hunger Games. I look around. Elderly are asleep on their feet and the children too young to be in the Games chase on another around. I couldnt recall a time when anyone had listened to the history of Panem.

The mayor drones on, but to the more recent history, Everone knows it as the Mockingjay Rebellion. In the 74th Hunger Games, two tributes from District Twelve had disrupted the 'peace' by defying the Capitol, encouraging riots. Then in the 75th Hunger Games they escaped the arena, only to start a rebel army in District Twelve and the remains of Thirteen. The threat was so great that they were forced to destroy District Twelve.

I tuned out as she went into how the Capitol came out victorious. I was born after the rebellion, so I didnt know what really happened. But anyone could spot a lie constructed in the Capitol. The mayor smiled as she talked about the reinstitution of the Hunger Games. Sadistic freak. I could feel my fists clench. She finally shut her mouth and moved back to sit in one of the chairs. A man, obviously young and from the Capitol, came up to the podium. His hair was slicked back, his smile glowing almost as sickly white as his skin.

"Happy Hunger Games!" he said, The irony could kill me. He wouldn't understand, seeing as to how the Capitol still didnt participate in the Games. The animosity in the crowd was at an extreme. "As I do, I'll draw the men out first." he never lost that smile. He walked over to the bowl closest the podium and stared at it for a moment, then plunged his hand in. A moment later he removed a small slip of paper and walked back to the podium. The crowd muttered among themselves. The man looked out into the crowd, an attempt to be dramatic.

"Dylan Vetreal." he said. I felt my heart drop. Not Dylan. Not Dylan. The crowd sighed in relief. The other man on the stage kept a pokerface. I hand't even realized it was our victor, Dylan's father. Dylan made his way to the stage and trips up the steps. If this wasn't such a serious matter, I probably would have laughed at him. Dylan looked out into the crowd, a look of desperation. His face was clean in all the wrong places. He had been crying. "Well young man, are you happy to be a tribute?"

"What do you think?" Dylan snapped. He went over sand stood behind the bowls. The man regained his smile quickly and looked out into the crowd.

"Now for the ladies. " he walked to the second bowl. He dug his hand tot he bottom and swirled it, pulling out one name. Nineteen times. My name is in that bowl nineteen times, He unfolds the paper and reads the name.

"Raven Yangstem."

Fuck.


End file.
